


lie with me (just forget the world)

by myaimistrue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discussions of sex, Dr. Sexy - Freeform, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Flirting, Friendship, M/M, Motel Rooms, Pining, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 05, but it's Dean so he's not really able to recognize that it's pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaimistrue/pseuds/myaimistrue
Summary: Dean and Castiel in a motel room.No, not like that. They're watching Dr. Sexy.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	lie with me (just forget the world)

**Author's Note:**

> This is set vaguely toward the end of Season 5, but nowhere in particular.

“Liking the episode?”

Castiel’s gaze is trained intently on the television, and before he even opens his mouth to respond, Dean knows that whatever he’s about to say, it’s gonna be good. He suppresses a grin—at this point, Cas’s strange interpretations of normal human crap is one of the few things he can still rely on. 

And sure enough, Cas says, “These doctors are having sex while they’re at work. That seems unsafe.”

Dean shrugs. His third beer is almost empty in his hands, and he’s got a nice buzz going, reclined back on the rickety motel bed. “They don’t seem worried about it.”

“They don’t. It’s concerning. What about their patients?” And then Cas does his trademark little head tilt and squint at the screen, and Dean does grin at that. Whatever. He’s trying to save the world—he’s allowed to feel a little fond of the eons-old angel sitting gingerly at the foot of his bed. “And frankly, it can’t be comfortable to have sex in a closet like that.”

Dean snorts. “You’d be surprised.” 

“You’ve had sex in a closet?” Castiel sounds mildly curious, in the same tone you might say,  _ Oh, it’s going to rain today?  _ He’s still watching the made-for-television-sex-scene with almost laserlike focus. If this was anybody but Cas, Dean’d probably think the guy was some kind of pervert.

“Yeah, once. In a few bathrooms, in the backseat a bunch of times, and once…” Cas glances over as Dean trails off and smirks. “Once on a pool table.”

“Not in front of the bar’s other patrons, I hope,” Castiel says dryly. It’s a small joke, if you can even call it that, but Dean still feels a burst of pride. Cas is still getting the hang of humor, but he’s come a long way since they met.

“Definitely not. She’d closed the place down for the night, and we got to talking…” Dean tries not to smile too lecherously—wouldn’t want to corrupt the angel any more than he always has. “Well, you know what happens next.”

“Sex,” Cas supplies.

“Exactly.” Dean takes a sip of his beer, again trying to hide the fond look on his face because sometimes it’s just too fucking sappy. Remember when he used to hate this guy? Remember when he wanted nothing more than to shoot his feathery ass full of rock salt?

They watch Dr. Sexy in silence for a few minutes. Dean isn’t caught up on the show—the impending apocalypse has kept him a little busy—but he still follows the episode easily. Not much has changed since the last one he saw, and of course, Dr. Sexy is the same badass doctor he’s always been, cowboy boots and all. 

Dean’s not an introspective guy—his instincts for self-preservation are a little too strong for that—but it occurs to him that now, sprawled out on the shitty motel bedspread, Cas in front of him, Sammy safe and tucked away in a library doing research for the case, now is the most relaxed he’s felt in a long fucking time. The apocalypse is still waiting to rear its ugly head, but it feels distant in a way it hasn’t yet before. If Dean concentrates, he can almost convince himself that it was all some kind of weird dream, that he’s fucked up and dangerous in a normal hunter way, not a biblical end-of-the-world way, that the biggest thing he should be worrying about is rustling up some money for their next motel stay.

The only real snag to the fantasy is Cas. There’s no way to explain him out of the story. With Cas comes angels, and with angels come the Earth’s big goodbye.

It should irritate Dean, really. He’d almost managed to shut it all down, delude himself just enough to get more than four hours of sleep tonight, and Cas in his dumbass trench coat ruined the whole thing. But looking at the back of his head, still slightly tilted as Dr. Sexy performs chest compressions on his crashing patient, Dean can’t muster up any annoyance. All he feels is that stupid warmth in his chest, all-encompassing and more than a little frightening.

It’s been there for longer than he cares to think about. And fuck it, he’s still not going to think about it. Dean is a world-class represser of feelings and thoughts, and this is no different. Really, he’s doing it for the good of the world. No fucking way he can stop the apocalypse while also trying to dissect the reason why he and Cas have thirty-second long staring contests every time they’re in the same room.

So he puts the whole thing out of his mind. The apocalypse  _ is  _ barreling right toward them, but right now? Right now, Dean’s watching Dr. Sexy.

The episode ends dramatically: in the final moments, Dr. Sexy’s patient, the one he barely saved mere moments before, pulls a gun on him and shoots him right in the chest. Dean’s immediately trying to figure out why, running through a mental list of characters in the show that hold a grudge against the character, while Cas actually seems to be a little concerned about Dr. Sexy’s safety.

“Don’t worry, Cas, they’ll never kill him,” Dean says reassuringly, oddly touched by his concern. “I mean, he’s been stabbed, electrocuted, he had a brain tumor… oh, and then there was the shipwreck episode.”

“It’s statistically very unlikely that any individual would survive all of those disasters,” Cas says suspiciously.

“Well, that’s the magic of television for you.” Dean finishes off the last of his beer and gets up. His head buzzes pleasantly as he walks over the dinky mini-fridge. “You want one of these? I know it takes more than we’ve got to get you drunk, but—”

“How do you comfortably have sex in a closet?”

Dean looks at the disgusting inside of the fridge, holding only his half-empty six-pack and layers of crusted old food, attempting to collect himself. Then, he grabs two beers and pops them both open as he says. “I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?”

“When I said having sex in a closet couldn’t be comfortable,  _ you _ said I’d be surprised. I’ve thought about it, and I’m struggling to determine what position would be comfortable for both parties.” Cas has got that expression that Dean’s gotten to know pretty well, the one uncertain of and fascinated by humanity, but there’s something else there. Almost like humor. With horror, it occurs to Dean that Cas is fucking with him. “So how did you do it?”

“Yeah, I’m not drunk enough to have this conversation with you.” Dean hands Cas his beer and tries to ignore how cold his hands are as their fingertips brush. He feels cagey all of a sudden, cooped up, the motel room too small, and he paces over to the window. He glances around out at the parking lot—it’s an old habit, one ground into him by John Winchester at a young age, but he always defaults to checking his surroundings. You never know who might be watching you, stalking you. Fortunately, the parking lot is about as empty and boring as the rest of this motel and the town it calls home.

He can feel Cas’s eyes on his back. It used to make him want to crawl out of his own skin, the way Cas would stare at him like he knew what was going on in Dean’s head and heart better than Dean did, but now, he sort of likes it. It’s comforting, almost. Makes him feel at home, sick as it is.

But he’s still a sarcastic shit, regardless of his stupid feelings, so he turns back to face Castiel. “Y’know, it’s not polite to stare like that, Cas.”

“Since when do you concern yourself with politeness?” Cas says, and Dean cracks a smile at that, and at the way he takes a long sip from his beer—it’s pretty strong stuff, but being an angel means Cas drinks it like it’s water.

“Fair enough.” Dean looks at him for a moment, at the complete lack of interest in Cas’s expression as he sips from his beer. He told Dean, once, that most food just tastes like molecules to him and that he wasn’t particularly fond of the sensation. “You don’t have to drink that.”

“I know.” Cas’s lips play in a faint smile. “But someone once told me that friends don’t let friends drink alone.”

Dean grins and raises his beer. “Sounds like a cool guy.”

“Well, he thinks rather highly of himself, but he’s alright.”

They both laugh a little. And then they’re just standing there on opposite sides of the room, drinking their beer, looking—no, that’s not right,  _ gazing  _ at one another. Dean knows that this is weird, the way he and Cas interact and stare and stand in comfortable silence, knows that anybody else wouldn’t get it, knows that he  _ himself _ doesn’t really get it, but he just doesn’t fucking care. Because Cas’s eyes are way bluer than Dean remembers. Because Cas is drinking beer he hates so Dean won’t drink alone. Because Cas likes Dr. Sexy. Because Dean hasn’t ever had whatever this is with anybody else.

He’s opening his mouth to crack a joke about it, to ease some of the intensity he’s feeling, when Cas sets his beer aside and says, “I should go.”

Dean wants to cut his traitor heart out for the way it sinks when he says that. “Oh. Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel’s voice is so earnest, so truthful, it almost hurts. “I wish I could stay, but I—”

“No, I know.” There’s the urge to say something like ‘please stay,’ which is embarrassing and weird, but Dean ignores it. If there’s anything he knows how to do, it’s take a goodbye like a man. “You’ve got angel ass to kick. I get it.”

Castiel nods, absently, like that’s beside the point. Then, he walks over to Dean, getting all up in his personal space like always, but the look in his eye is different. Softer, maybe. “Dean, I…”

It hangs in the air, whatever he’s not saying. Dean feels like if he says it, the world might just end on its own, Michael and Lucifer be damned, but fuck if he doesn’t want to hear whatever it is.

“Thank you. For showing me Dr. Sexy.” Cas ghosts a smile at him, and  _ whoosh _ . He’s gone. 

Dean just stands there for a moment, still holding his beer. The room had seemed too small a minute ago, and now he looks around and is almost astounded by how far away every bit of it seems. 

After that, he finishes the rest of his beer pretty quickly. Sam comes back from the library a few minutes later, rambling to Dean about the case with the kind of excitement that only comes from not having to think about the imminent end of the world for once, and he doesn’t seem to notice anything up with Dean. Not that there would be anything up with him.

“Cas came by,” Dean eventually says while Sam is brushing his teeth. He’s polished off the last beer in the six-pack and is laying in bed half-asleep, still fully clothed.

Sam pokes his head out of the bathroom and shoots him a quizzical look. There’s a ring of toothpaste around his mouth. 

“He was just checking in. I told him everything was fine with us,” Dean says as Sam spits into the sink. And then, because he apparently just can’t help himself, he adds, “We watched Dr. Sexy.”

“You watched a soap opera with an angel?” Sam says incredulously.

“Yeah.” Dean settles more comfortably on the bed, and shoves his hand under his pillow to wrap around the gun there. God, he’s fucking tired these days. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“He liked it.”

Sam chuckles and says something Dean doesn’t catch. He’s too busy drifting in that soft space between awake and asleep, thinking of lab coats and pool tables and a pair of blue eyes. The rustling of a trench coat. A voice saying, “That’s not medically possible.” And like a fucking nerd, Dean smiles into his pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol because it's Dr. Sexy, after all.
> 
> I hope you liked this one! It kind of came out of nowhere in my brain, but I had fun writing these two earlier on in their relationship. Plus, Dean is always really fun to inhabit.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> Come yell at me about these two on my [tumblr!](https://angelwingsdean.tumblr.com/)


End file.
